


The God Squad

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, AU Gods, As hanni and wills relationship develops, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a god, Humour, Its a bit ridiculous I admit, M/M, No Sex, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Tags might change, Will Figures It Out, Will is a shit, Will is also a hunter of gods, Will is also adorable, Will is an FBI agent, Will says 'fuck' a lot, Will will love Hannibal all in good time, no violence, this will have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100 years ago, the old gods appeared around the world and gave an ultimatum, humans had to renew their worship of them or they would leave. The League of Nations met and said,  “F*** off, we will be fine on our own,” or words to that effect.</p>
<p>Most, but not all gods left, a Storm god called Hannibal was one of those who stayed behind.</p>
<p>This is COMPLETE //// - due to comments from Azvee, stone_cold, Liva and Victorine this little piece of comedic insanity  will be continued ♡</p>
<p>This fic will now be longer, I am posting a new chapter today 9/7/16, it is short but it is a bit of universe building and sets things up for a continuation.</p>
<p>23/8 new chapter :-)</p>
<p>This fic will probably not be continued as there is little interest in it and my motivation has dropped. Thank you to those who have liked it this far. :-) </p>
<p>If anyone still wants to read this the first three chapters were written as a complete fic so you could just read those if you want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of my head onto the computer like this, I have no idea, I apologise 
> 
> I meant for it to be serious, but this really is not - 
> 
> No Beta

Will Graham is a FBI Agent, to give him his proper title he is Special Agent Will Graham of the FBI, a very special agent indeed. He brings serial killers to justice and in his spare time, when he’s not fishing or walking his dogs, he hunts gods. That is to say, he meets up with a bunch of guys who, using ancient books, rumours of recent sightings and ‘Signs’ reported in local, national and international press, keep track of the movements of known gods. It is true, that as of yet they have encountered zero, that’s correct, zilch, nada, not even one,  but they are very, very committed.

Will and his dad used to spend summers driving around investigating possible leads, it was the happiest time of his life. Some of the old guys, and their kids are still involved, it’s a bit like a family. Will’s family are a pack of dogs, and a group of guys and girls whom most would consider, ‘odd’, ‘losers’ or just plain ‘crazy’. Its not a mainstream way to live your life but it suits him just fine.

People do believe in the existence of the old gods, but the (almost) universal mantra is, ‘why waste your time on them, humans have much better things to do.’

100 years ago, gods appeared around the world and gave an ultimatum, humans had to renew their worship of them or they would leave. The League of Nations met and said,  “F*** off, we will be fine on our own,” or words to that effect. So they did, they fucked off, no one knows where, but it left a gaping chasm, an ache which every child since has been born with and one which no amount of scientific research or psychotherapeutic meddling has managed to heal.

Most people live in denial, grasping for greater wealth, more sex or better hair, Will, not one bothered by any of these things, knows he aches. The God Squad doesn’t stop the ache but it does provide an escape for his mind from the evil that men do and, yes, it would be cool to meet a god. It was said a few gods, so enamoured with humans, or exiled by their own kind, the latter being more likely in Will’s opinion, remained.

Will is taking some leave from the FBI after a particularly difficult case has left him more ‘unstable’ then normal.  After arranging for Alana to take care of his dogs, he sets off for some rest and relaxation at the God Squad's Annual General Meeting. Nothing much normally happens, its just an excuse to drink too much whiskey and blow spit balls at each other. This year though, things seem a bit more organised, Will has even been emailed an agenda, its got him worried. It seems a newbie, called Anna, or something, has taken over and decided they need some aims and objectives or some such bullshit.

.........................

_Well fuck me_ , thinks Will, as he opens the door and steps into the trailer, also known as God Squad HQ, if there isn’t some Nordic supermodel sat photogenically amongst the books and discarded plastic tea cups.

Will knows his type, expects the world to fall at his feet because of his chiselled cheekbones and perfect stubble and from the looks of Franklyn, Abigail and Simon he’d not be far wrong.

“Will, its so good to see you,” says Franklyn, “ This is ...”

Whatever the name of the model is Will isn’t listening, he’s staring at the jean clad legs and expensive leather boots currently resting on the coffee table. If Will possessed telekinesis the boots and owner would have spontaneously combust, instead his hand goes to his belt, damn, why did he have to leave his gun behind.  The table is the last thing Will’s dad made, he does not mind that it is covered in books, ink and is sticky to the touch, what he cannot abide is feet; it is disrespectful.

The boots do not explode, unfortunately, but they and the legs are, with a noticeable amount of grace, removed from the table. Will, and his intensity, turn on heel and head to the third circle of hell known as the kitchen. To his surprise he is not greeted by a fetid bin long overdue an emptying nor is his nose battered into submission by the stench emanating from the fridge, instead everything smells lemony fresh. He is rummaging around for the kettle when he comes face to face with a shining, chrome devil machine, otherwise known as a coffee maker. Will just stares, _What the fuck,_ if coffee could be made by staring alone, there would be enough for rush hour at Starbucks. Then, it all makes sense, _Ah, ha the model_ , just as Will is making this startling deduction he hears,

“Will, can you make Hannibal a cup of coffee.”

He walks back into the main room and with one eye brow raised looks Franklyn directly in the nose, he need say nothing more. No one feels sorry for Franklyn he should have known better, it is a fact universally acknowledged that Will never looks anyone in the eye. The nose is the closest and then only when he is really pissed. Most importantly when interacting with Will it should be remembered to allow him 24 hours to withdraw from the FBI. His symptoms include high(er) levels of sarcasm, rudeness, irritability and shaking, during this period it is best to not address or look at Will Graham unless he speaks first.

Will turns back to the kitchen.

“Let me help you Will,” requests a smooth accented voice.

He stops, _Well fuck me, it speaks and it is European,_ he decides the best thing to do is ignore it, it will go away. It doesn’t. It follows him into the kitchen.

“You don’t like eye contact do you.”

He could say something witty about seeing too much and not seeing enough but instead Will thinks, _Is this clothes horse really trying to psychoanalyse me_ and continues with his strategy of ignoring him. It takes a minute or two for Will to realise he may have spoken the bit about the clothes horse out loud, but it's not like he and the model are going to be besties or anything, so he doesn’t really give a shit.

He fumbles with the machine, gets it to work by hitting it a few times, he carries the cup back to one of the sofas, he’s shaking so much most of the coffee ends up splattered on the carpet. Will looks at his cup there is maybe two mouthful’s left, but he is too exhausted to get back up.

The model, also known as Hannibal, follows behind Will and wouldn’t you just know it sits down right next to him. The special agent gives the man a look only reserved for the ‘FBI’s most wanted’, closes his eyes, opens them, _nope he’s still there,_ then wraps his arms protectively about himself.

“I made a spare you are welcome to have it,” says Hannibal holding out a cup of the hot stuff.

Will contemplates what strings are attached to the acceptance of the coffee, there’s bound to be something, _maybe he thinks we can be friends, god forbid_. His hand quickly reaches out and snatches the cup, he mumbles something approximating a thank you. To his horror Hannibal speaks again,

“God forbid we try and be friendly.”

_Fuck, the man does want to be friends,_ Will needs to stop this now, “I don’t find you interesting.”

“You will.”

Will can just tell this guy is going to be trouble, with a capital T for Tosser.


	2. Chapter 2

It seems that Hannibal, who has only been a squaddie a few months, has taken over command, everyone’s attention is wrapt as the Minutes of the Last Meeting are read in dulcet European tones. Will didn’t even know there was a last meeting and who the fuck is taking the minutes, if they think he’ll take his turn they have another thing coming. He pulls his arms in closer around himself and stares at the X Files poster opposite, ‘I want to believe’ it says, no, correction, someone has scrawled ‘don’t.’ Will smiles at himself, he remembers picking up a marker pen and adding that little bit of dissention the last time he was on leave from the FBI. There is not much dissention going on at the minute amongst the squaddies, everyone is nodding their heads as Hannibal talks about the need to decide a process for reporting a contact with a god. Will wonders when it will be time for spit ball.

Will opens his mouth, Franklyn and a few others stare at him pleading, ‘noooooo, please don’t speak,’ their communication is almost telepathic. He does speak, just to fuck with them.

“Put your hands up if you’ve ever knowingly met a god, well, fuck me, no one, there’s a surprise.  Maybe we should improve our detection of them first before we start wasting precious drinking time on processes.”

Will turns and looks Hannibal in the nose, daring him to contradict.

“That’s a good point Will, do you have any ideas?”

“Fuck no.”

Deciding there is not going to be much whiskey drinking tonight, Will plumps up a cushion and shows his support for the new leader by closing his eyes and going to sleep. The room sighs in relief, but only for a moment.

..............................

The cushion Will now sleeps on is in fact Hannibal’s leg, the bad tempered cherub now drools on the Storm god's best jeans, not that said god minds.

Franklyn comes over to apologise and suggests moving Will to the little bedroom at the back of the trailer.

The god possesses the ability to multi task, that is to smile, talk and contemplate the beauty on his lap, whilst convincing the room that, as personally inconvenient as it may be, a sleeping Will Graham is in everyone’s best interest; they all nod in relief and gratitude. _Humans they are so easy to dupe_.  An image of a younger, virginal Will comes to Hannibal’s mind. Fresh faced and glossy tied naked to a makeshift alter as a sacrifice to appease the local god. Ah, the good old days, what fun he could have had with Will then, but human’s being are fragile things that never lasted long, but he, at least, always made sure they died with a smile on their face. Looking down at the tired man in his lap Hannibal can't help but think it would have been a waste, Will is much more interesting for having grown up in the modern, godless world.

He is tempted to run his fingers through the foul mouthed ones tresses, but that may seem a bit too intimate. There is only one thing for it, he stops time, there have to be some benefits to being a god after all, apart from the sex, power and worship of course. Will’s hair is much more silken and his skin much softer than it might first appear, he needs a shave, wash and well a good disinfecting due to too much sweat, dog hair and slobber but otherwise he’s rather perfect.

Most humans take one look at a god and are awe struck unable to speak often falling onto their knees in worship, or if Hannibal is so inclined, madness, violence and death. In recent times Hannibal has had to dial it back a notch though to not stand out, too much, from the crowd, but humans still don’t talk back to or touch a god (unless there is fucking involved). If the members of the God Squad thought about it they’d realise no one had touched Hannibal not by accident or design in the three months he’d been there, in fact they all maintain a deferential boundary. Not Will though, most intriguing.

......

Whilst apologising to Hannibal for his friends behaviour Franklyn let slip some interesting information, Will would now sleep for 12 or so hours and then wake in what was affectionately known as his ‘adorable’ stage, during this time Will snuggled, drank lots of camomile tea and ate chocolate biscuits. It lasted 24 hours before ‘normal’ Will emerged, a slightly less agitated version of the first ‘do not speak to, look at or touch’ Will Graham. Everyone would now clear out and not come back until mid afternoon, allowing Will the ‘me time’ he needed, when they would return bearing sweet treats. Hannibal had other plans, it was the prefect time to bond.

As a god Hannibal didn’t need to sleep, so after saying farewell to his fellow squaddies he headed to a 24 hour high quality food hall to purchase what he would need for the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Will walks out of the bedroom and the Storm god is moved to poetry, _‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’_ comes to mind. He does not speak the great bard’s words out loud for he judges it likely the cherub’s response would be, ‘Fuck, no.’  The lovely human is wearing a tiny pair of blue short and an equally tight T-shirt. It rides up as he scratched his gloriously curly hair revealing a patch of smooth skin, if Hannibal was not a god he would undoubtedly have thanked one.  

Standing in the doorway, eyes half closed, a sleepy Will mumbles, “Something smells nice,” and opening his mouth wide he yawns.

“I have been making some biscuits for this afternoon, they won’t be ready for a little while. I’m making myself scrambled eggs would you like some?”

“Yes, please,” Will answers, a small, hesitant smile playing across his lips. He stumbles along heading towards one of the sofas, he crashes down, curling up in the foetal position.

Picking up a fleecy throw from the back of a chair Hannibal places it over Will. He’s a bit disappointed to be covering over the lovely arse he has just glimpsed, but his agenda is to bond, not copulate at least not yet. He decides against making small talk, letting Will come to him rather than seek his attention.

Will dozes for several minutes before looking up from the sofa, “What’s your name again?” he asks.

“Hannibal,” says the Storm god with a smile, he’s not at all surprised the man doesn’t remember.

“Was I rude last night?” Will asks sitting up and running his hands through his hair.

“A little,” says Hannibal turning away from the oven to look at Will, who just nods and sighs likes he’s disappointed with himself.

When he tries to stand up Will almost falls over from the tangle he has made of the throw, he frees himself then, to Hannibal’s surprise, begins to clear the coffee table of its accumulated rubbish. Once he is done he heads to the fridge where he retrieves a bottle of orange juice and grabs two clean glasses from the draining board. He does all this, Hannibal notes, with his eyes closed much of the time, it’s easy to see Will is exhausted, his skin is pale and drawn, his eyes look red and sore.

The god wonders when Will last ate a proper meal or had a good night’s sleep, he then wonders why it matters to him. Normally Hannibal has little care for the trials and tribulations of human life, even his high priests of old were hardly worth a passing thought. Maybe he has been wearing his person suit too long because Will Graham seems to have got under his skin somewhat.

Hannibal sets the coffee table with plates and cutlery and the two men settle down to breakfast. They talk about normal pleasantries such as the weather, then move on to the day Will and his dad made the coffee table and Hannibal, with due reticence, briefly mentions his own, fabricated, family he mourns the death of; bonding is going well. Too well, the Storm god is starting to appreciate Will not just for his pretty face, pert arse and amusingly colourful language but also that he is a many layered human being.

When they have finished Hannibal insists Will return to the sofa and he will clear the breakfast things away and make a pot of tea.  Curling up on the sofa Will picks up a copy of God Hunting Today.

"We really do need to improve our detection, other groups have made contact, look,” says Will as the Storm god places a glass tea pot containing boiled water and tiny dried camomile flower heads on the table. Will is handed a cup of tea and a biscuit in exchange for the magazine. Hannibal knows that the goddess mentioned in the article packed her Gucci bags and left quite some time ago.

“There is nothing new in the article, it is just ancient tales revamped for those who don’t know better, no insult intended,” says Hannibal as he settles next to Will on the sofa, this time he is not given a look which could chill, a human, to the bone.

“None taken”, says Will as he crunches quite happily on the chocolate orange cookie, the orange just adding that little bit of zing, “I leave ancient dusty books to dusty, old people," says Will with a mischievous twinkle. “You think its made up?”

“Yes,” replies Hannibal, except the part about her stupendous breasts, but he doesn’t tell Will that.

Flicking through the rest of the magazine Hannibal laughs to himself about human delusions of grandeur, that is until Will’s head comes to rest on his upper arm. Then all he can think about is the little spark of warmth in his chest, its quite pleasant, but Hannibal has no idea what it is.

“You smell nice,” Will says as he nuzzles into the fabric of Hannibal’s jumper.

“Thank you Will,  it’s a new aftershave,” and his godly aura.

Will’s feet come up and they settle on Hannibal’s lap. The god freezes not sure what to do, then he carefully extends his arm over the adorable cherub’s shoulders, the nuzzle becomes a cuddle and the warmth in Hannibal’s chest grows, he’s quite at a loss.

“You're perfect,” Will says dozily.

It is with deep regret that Hannibal feels the moment tension floods into the light, liquid form of sleepy Will, he can hear the human’s breath hitch and fear take over.

Hannibal lets Will leap unrestraint from his arms, scramble across the floor and back himself into a corner.

“You’re a fucking god and you’re here.” His eyes dart around but there are no weapons to hand but Will knows they would be useless anyway. He’s going to die at the hands of this god and there is nothing he can do about it.

“Yes,” affirms Hannibal, there is no point in denying it. "What a clever boy you are Will." Too clever. 

For all the fear illuminating Will’s eyes Hannibal can see curiosity pushing its way through.

“So, which.. who?”

Hannibal decides to help the scared cherub out, “I’m what you might describe as god of storms.”

The god gives a little amused huff when he sees disappointment in Will eyes, “Oh, so you’re not Zeus or Odin then, you look the part?”

Hannibal just shakes his head smiling indulgently, as a parent might a ‘know it all’ child, “You human’s think you know everything.”

He takes a step closer to the crouching Will, “I’m sorry I really am, I had hoped we could be friends, but it's far too soon for anyone to know I am here.”

Will looks to the door his instincts screaming at him to run, hide, but he knows what happens here and now is controlled by Hannibal, and, as he breathes in, he decides he doesn’t want to be prey.

“Don’t run Will, I’ll catch you.”

Will just nods accepting his fate, “Don’t hurt them, the gang, they are good people. I know that doesn’t matter to you...”

“Hush, Will, everything will be okay,” says Hannibal as he takes Will's head in his hands gently pushing back a curl, “I promise, I won’t hurt them.”

Will feels a kiss and a whole load of pain then he slumps forward into Hannibal’s arms.

.......

Hannibal closes the door behind him, everything is cleaned up and reset, it is like he was never there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Will is not dead, he's asleep the last few hours of Hannibals company have been erased  
> 2) That little warm feeling in Hannibal's chest thats love and its why Will wasn't killed  
> 3) As we know Hannibal keeps his promises so the God Squad are safe  
> 4) This is not a great place to end it I know, but it means I can pick this idea back up and move forward with it, when I finish some other stuff I'm writing  
> 5) I do like the premise behind this fic but I may rewrite and extend it with my more serious head on rather than add to this little piece of insanity - I do not know what possessed me, except it made me laugh :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up, its a new day and after having his mind wiped he no longer remembers the hours he and Hannibal spent bonding. Will and Hannibal set off on their first investigation together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have started to develop the idea for a longer fic, this chapter is mostly a bit of universe building and setting things up. Its not very long, but its a way of getting me back into the fic.

A slight tug is necessary to open the trailer bedroom door, it has fallen slightly on its hinges, Will looks around, scratches his head, he thought he’d heard a knock but finding nothing of importance he closes it. Jumping back into bed he enjoys a ten minute nap before his stomach gurgles uncomfortably, sliding his tongue across his teeth, he feels a thick and fluffy coating from all the sugary goodness he indulged in yesterday. He takes a long, deep breath, stretches his arms out above his head, yawns and, resisting the urge to turn back over again, decides it is time to get up. Water is splashed on his face and underarms, teeth are brushed and, because he’s not in a hurry, Will has a relaxing five minutes read on the toilet. He doesn’t bother to check himself in the tiny mirror, he knows what he looks like and, as far as he is concerned, what other people think is irrelevant. He just runs his fingers through his hair and picks up his clothes from the floor, he sniffs and they pass the test he’ll get another day or two’s wear out of them. Will is now ready to greet the day with a smile, well, that’s maybe taking things a bit too far.

_Does that man not have anything better to do_ , thinks Will as he pushes passed, _what’s his name the guy with the girl’s name, ah, Anna, that’s it._ He catches something about Franklyn having business with Tobias, Will can’t help the slight pull of his mouth at the mention of that man’s name, and to make his day extra special he’s now saddle with Anna, or Tosser as Will prefers to call him.

Hannibal looks at his watch, a full twenty minutes have past since the door was first opened and then firmly closed in his face leaving him standing there perfectly still. To a god this is not even a blink of an eye but, from the derision on the curly haired cherub’s face, to a human he might as well be wearing a sign saying, stark, raving lunatic. Gods are used to the stand and stare, after all doesn’t everything over a certain age stand and stare into the great nothingness. Few, but the youngest of the gods, remember how old they are but the stand/stare is a reliable indicator of age and power. Amongst the gods Hannibal holds the stand/stare record, millennia after millennia after millennia he stood, stared and pondered; no one has ever come close to rivalling it.

It would be a mistake to think that all gods are the same age, they are not. The universe has birthed them periodically but it has been three and a half thousand years since the last one and the gods now believe there will be no more. Considered precious by all, as soon as the decision was made to leave Mischa was packed up, along with her Jimmy Choo’s, and spirited away, she didn’t even have time to say goodbye. She was the apple of Hannibal’s eye and he doesn’t know where she is, but he will find her one day.

Right now though, instead of pondering the great mysteries of the universe, Hannibal’s thinking about dogs, or at least their odour. Opening the car windows he hopes the smell, which seems woven into the very fabric on Will’s back, does not seep into the soft leather upholstery of his Bentley. Dogs, Hannibal thinks, with a chuckle.

“What you so happy about?” mumbles Will from the passenger seat. Hannibal had anticipated a tussle over the keys, the ‘I’m driving, no I’m driving,’ scenario. Thankfully the prospect of a ride in a luxury car normally wins out, although, Hannibal thinks, in Will’s case it likely the attraction is due to the chance for a nap.   

“I’m a little thrilled at the prospect of my first investigation,” Hannibal confides, it’s true, at least a little. Its a much more acceptable answer than laughing at humanity’s ridiculous need for love, a drive so strong they even demand it from animals. Its one of the (many) things gods don’t understand about humans, the closest they come to love is a parental affection for a young god who is in need of guardianship.  They do not fall ‘in love.’ ‘In lust,’ yes, for a few short human days, but ‘love’ no or at least very, very, very rarely.

Will shakes his head, _a fucking rookie_ , but his seat is really comfortable and he decides a nap is a much better idea than giving Hannibal a hard time, its a difficult choice though.

When the rhythm of soft inhalations emerging from Will’s lips confirms he is asleep Hannibal takes his focus off the road. If anything he is thrilled to be spending time with Will, on a strictly colleagues only, no bonding, basis.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little scene in their car journey on the way to their first case together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise its been a month since I last posted anything and I apologise for this tiny chapter but I plan to prioritise writing another chapter or so over the weekend and get back into this fic. I will not be distracted by anymore polls or other fics :-)

It’s a sense of spiralling into a rapid descent that jerks Will out of his dose. He could have followed that feeling down and allowed himself the luxury of falling into a deep slumber, he almost did, if not for the presence of the virtual stranger sat next to him he would have. His instincts, finely tuned after years of hunting Gods and serial killers, would never let him be so vulnerable. His head rests against the passenger window the glass vibrating minutely against his forehead, arched forward his neck muscles stretch uncomfortably he can feel an ache but he chooses to remain still. He looks out, through half closed eyes, at the world passing by he feels more ragged than normal one night of reasonable sleep does that, sometimes it’s better to drink coffee instead. Hopefully, if he stays quiet like this Hannibal will think he’s still asleep.

Will is disappointed. There are words directed at him, zzzz, zzzz, zzzz, that’s what it sounds like, like a goddamn fly. The sound is constant and the more it goes on the more annoying it becomes, he wants to swot Hannibal but he has nothing big enough to hand. It appears he is expected to participate in some sort of conversation, Will shuffles, sits ups, looks straight ahead and scowls, _fuck that, we are not having conversations_.

Taking his phone out of his pocket Will taps away, smirking to himself he then shoves the screen in the driver’s face – WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?

_Rude,_ pops unbidden into the god’s head, the boy needs to learn some manners. Another time, another place Hannibal might have been the one to educate him. An image of Will spread across his lap, bare ass red from a spanking sends a pleasing warmth through Hannibal’s ... mind.  He decides it’s best not to follow that particular train of thought any further.

“I believe it advisable to talk about the case before we get to our destination,” explains Hannibal rather coolly, “Franklyn did not have the time...”

“Franklyn does not talk when we are in the car,” says Will shaking his head exasperated at having to open his mouth.

“I find that highly unlikely Will,” indeed the only way Hannibal can think of to keep Franklyn quiet is to tranquilise him, but all things considered, he wouldn’t put that past Will. “I believe it will be beneficial to us both if we discuss the details of the case.”

When the rude, foul-mouthed cherub pulls out two ear plugs from his pocket, deftly inserts them and then lifts his legs up to curl into himself, Hannibal realises he will never truly be able to predict Will Graham.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will encounters a goddess, Margot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cant believe it has been a year since I picked up my laptop and decided to have a go at writing a fic (inspired by WOTL as I was). It was pretty rubbish as I had no idea what I was doing, still don't lol, but I've enjoyed writing the fics and I've def improved though don't ask me about the craft of writing as I have absolutely no idea. Anyway I'm taking a few weeks off writing so wont post a new chapter of this for a month or so but this will be first on my list when I pick up the laptop again, I know what happens in the next chapter :)
> 
> No beta - please excuse mistakes etc

It is a little after 10am when Will and Hannibal arrive at their destination, a small and rather unimpressive courthouse in a town not worthy of remembering.

Stepping out off the car Hannibal takes a moment to stretch and rub his neck, he doesn’t feel the aches and pains a middle aged human might after driving for several hours but its a good excuse to breath in. _Ah the beautiful Margot_ , he thinks, the presence of the goddess is dispersed in the air of the small town like a fine perfume.

He watches as Will takes the courthouse steps two at a time, a totally unnecessary act in Hannibal’s opinion as there are only six in total, and disappears into the building. Despite not being able to summon up enough energy to speak during the car journey it appears that Will is all fired up by the thrill of a chase, a hound after a fox. As Hannibal takes the steps he wonders if Will has at all considered that this particular fox may have bigger teeth and sharper claws.

Walking into the foyer Hannibal is just in time to see Will closes his eyes, breathe in and murmur, “She was here.”

“She?” enquires Hannibal sounding suitably surprised, in all honesty ‘what the fuck,’ would not be an unreasonable response but the god is too refined for such vulgarity.

“Yeah,” says Will offering no further explanation for his deduction. “I need to flash my FBI credentials at someone, get a look at the courtroom and I’ll be able to pin her down.”

Hannibal wishes he could pin Will down, and not in a sexual way, not this time anyway. It really shouldn’t be that easy to identify a god, even one as relaxed about security  as Margot, but there is no time for questions as Will takes long, hurried strides towards a desk.

Will Graham is bestowed with many gifts, beauty, empathy, intelligence, but interpersonal skills is surely not one of them. _Hopeless_ , chuckles Hannibal to himself. He takes his time to cross the floor enjoying the opportunity to eardrop on Will’s conversation with the young lady on reception; most amusing.  It’s less a conversation and more an exchange of words, scowls and defensive postures. Will’s voice is hitched somewhere between patronising and sinister, even Hannibal has to admit it’s annoy. The woman’s hackles rise by the second and for all his supposed empathy Will appears clueless in his ability to de-escalate and achieve his end goal. Before security is called Hannibal steps in, he chokes back the chuckle lodged in his throat and introduces himself, all it takes is a few pleasantries, a smile and brief eye contact and he has what is needed. He suggests Will looks in the court room whilst he waits for the contact details of the local legal profession.

It doesn’t take the receptionist, Julie, very long to find the list, Hannibal expresses his gratitude for her help and passes on his recipe for making the perfect molten lava cake, he then makes his way outside for some privacy.

Gods have never needed phones to contact each other, telepathy is much more convenient and also has the advantage of not being tapped by law enforcement or other nefarious agencies. After the exodus, yes that is what the gods themselves called it out of some sense of irony, those who remained behind raised barriers. No one is quite sure who is friend and who is foe, so cell phones it is.

All he says is, “they know,” before touching the little red button and ending the call.

As he watches Will exit the building Hannibal is grateful to be sat on a bench just to the side of the courthouse. Will swiftly takes the steps two at a time, his hair tussled just so by the wind and eyes delightfully aglow with excitement its a perfect picture captured in the god’s mind.  One from which he will edit out Will colliding with a column of school children, weaving like a drunken sailor on dry land and only just managing to avoid tripping over himself. ‘Fuck’ is clearly written all over Will’s face but thankfully it remains on the tip of his tongue otherwise the picture really would have been completely ruined.

With all the grace of a king Hannibal rises from the bench and awaits the agent who, to no real surprise, sprints right past him at breakneck speed.

“I know who it is,” says Will as he comes to a stop at the car door, “Did you get the list?”

“Yes,” replies Hannibal, “I did.”

Tugging at the door handle Will finds it locked, “Get a move on,” he says gesticulating to driver’s seat.

Hannibal stops his admittedly sedentary walk and cocks his head to one side. The two men look at each other Will sees the slight twitch to Hannibal’s mouth, _sensitive fucker_ he thinks.

“We have somewhere to be,” says Will without a hint of an apology but grateful he’d omitted the ‘fucking’ between ‘a’ and ‘move’.

“I see, so manners can be dispensed with.”

Will sighs, “Get a move on,” he flashes his eyes at Hannibal before adding, “please.”

“Better, Will, much better” says Hannibal as he unlocks the car doors. A lesson in manners is never a waste and a delay here and there ensures Margot is clear by the time they show up, although the goddess is not known for hurrying. 

.....

Despite a natural urge to want to grumble about having Hannibal foisted on him at last minute he has to admit, to himself only, that it’s worth it to be the passenger in the man’s car, the seats in themselves are an invitation to nap.  He’s not doing much napping now though, for the last five minutes Hannibal has been repeatedly glancing at him. Will’s first thought is some crud has made its way onto his face and Hannibal is too polite to mention it, a self conscious slide of hands finds nothing. The glances continue,

“Go on then, ask?” says Will.

Not even a flicker of emotion betrays the smirk Hannibal feels inside its tempting but he’ll refrain from reminding Will he’s just broke his own rule. “How do you know this woman, Margot, is a goddess?” he asks with just enough scepticism to sting, Will doesn’t seem assured about many things but on this he is and it’s highly likely to be a sensitive spot.

Shoulders sag briefly before Will wriggles himself up in his seat to sit a little straighter, the right nerve has been prodded.

“Franklyn brought some potential leakage in this area to my attention a few months back, we’ve been compiling data ever since. It could just be some lawyer on a lucky streak but there’s been an unusual amount of good and bad luck focused here for the last year or so.”

Leakage, the unintended consequences of a god using his or her powers. Whilst gods can direct their powers to achieve desirable ends, for example, ensuring a particular tree blooms out of season, turning into a swan to seduce a human (yes that has happened) or supporting a favourite city to conquer another; there are consequences. This depends generally on the strength and experience of the god, as well as, the amount of power being used and several other tedious factors. It’s not always bad, it often depends on the predisposition of the god(s) involved but Tsunami’s, famines and building collapses have all been the result of gods being unwilling or unable to control leakage. Some gods have little or no leakage, Hannibal is one.

Leakage never used to matter in the past, who cared if a few hundred, thousand or tens of thousands of humans perished if a god got their way. But now, with science, technology and the inflated sense of ego humans have grown, its as good as a ‘come and get me’ sign for hunters.

“Yes, but if you are to be believed it seems you can divinate a god by sniffing the air,” Hannibal injects a touch of ridicule into his voice calculated just right to annoy Will, although of course its not a ridiculous idea at all.

Will huffs, “So Franklyn didn’t tell you then, he normally can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Apparently not,” replies Hannibal, bookmarking the comment as support for his belief Will drugs Franklyn into silence.

“It’s my party trick, similar to how I recreate murder scenes and serial killers, I pull all the data available to me together and my imagination fills in the gaps.”

“I’m sure that’s not quite all of it, with gods nor serial killers,” says Hannibal

“Its close enough,” replies Will he doesn’t want to go into detail, he’s pretty sure Hannibal already thinks him a freak, its time to change the subject, “anyway you have your own magic.”

Hannibal’s face remains its normal placid self, but he’s already calculated the potential damage a second memory erase might inflict, decided the risk is worthwhile, accepted that Will losing a year of his life is neither here nor there as humans lives are so short anyway. He turn his head towards Will and the corners of his mouth turn up a little.

“Don’t deny it, Anna” says Will who finds staring out the passenger window a most agreeable way to hold a face to face conversation. It takes a second or two and then his blood runs cold, _fuck did I just say Anna,_ he laughs a little nervously to himself,“...bal, Hannibal,  you’re a flirt.”

Hannibal chuckles and returns his attention the road.

 _Phew, saved that one_ , thinks Will.

“I was merely conversing with Julie...”

Will snorts, “You even know her name.”

“A skill you seem to struggle with Mr Graham, as you hardly seem capable of remembering first names,” Hannibal says.

 _This is why no talking in the car is essential,_ thinks Will as he slides down further into his seat.

...

 

A short while after lapsing into silence Will and Hannibal arrive at the small home of the lady in question. “Stay put, I’ll make initial enquiries” orders Will,  Hannibal can’t help but be amused. Will it seems is in FBI mode, ordering the civilian to remain in the car out of harms way, only he doesn’t have a gun nor backup. Not that either would do any good against a god, fortunately for Will Margot is known to have affection for humans and would not, unless no other option were available, harm him. So Hannibal does as he is told, for now.

Will pushes on the door handle and finding it unlocked takes a few steps inside, he shouts, “Hello, anyone at home.”

This is not what they are supposed to do, accost a god without first observing and recording, then assessing if they look to be approachable. But from what he could tell this one seemed to have helped a lot of humans out, so he’s betting she will be okay and not smite him...hopefully...fingers crossed. It could be the only chance he gets to actually meet one.

“Welcome, my name is Margot and you are?” asks the goddess who, stood in her hall way, is slipping a slender arm into an elegant full length coat.

“Err, Will,” replies the formidable hunter of Gods and serial killers, its a good job Margot isn’t the latter he’d be dead by now she is quite literally stunning.

The thought of helping the goddess with her coat flickers across Will’s mind but as he takes a step forward he feels hands on his shoulders, colour splinters across his vision as his head impacts the wall then darkness.

Hannibal with a gentleness the god is not known for lays Will on the floor.

“Really Margot, how much time do you need?” he asks cocking his head minutely to one side.

Margot looks at the human lying on the floor then at Hannibal a small smile on her lips, “He’s not dead.”

“He’s useful.”

She gives a little amused huff, steps over Will and makes her way to the door.

“Margot I’d advise you to move fast and far, there are hunters far more dangerous and not so easily distracted as Will.”

Margot nods, “and you Hannibal?”

“Mischa, I’m sure she is still on earth, somewhere. If you hear anything.”

“I’ll let you know of course.”

 ...............

Will comes round to find Hannibal kneeling over him taking his pulse, he pushes himself up and rubs the tender spot high on his forehead.

“It’ll be sore for a day or two but nothing more than a bump,” says Hannibal allowing relief to sound in his tone, “I came in after you didn’t return.”

“I saw her, she was really beautiful,” says Will with a wide, sparkly smile, “Really, really beautiful.”

“I get the picture,” says Hannibal, wondering why Will doesn’t smile at him that way. _Hmm, interesting_ , he thinks, as a swell of emotion rises in his belly. He can pick out anger, hurt, disappointment, fondness, resentment and a few others all tossed together and whizzed around, he feels a bit sick. Jealousy would seem to fit the description, he’ll have to think about this later.

“Didn’t you see her?” asks Will.

“No,” replies Hannibal as he helps Will up off the floor, “maybe she slipped away out back, or disappeared with a puff of smoke and a crack of lightening.”

Will briefly catches Hannibal’s eye and laughs, “Maybe. She had an accomplice though, the fucker got me from behind.”

“It’s lucky you are not dead.”

“Yeah, I should have been better prepared.”

................

They are an hour into their car journey home, silence hangs heavy and for a man who (wrongly) believes he has just met his first god, Will’s initial enthusiasm has dimmed spectacularly. If Hannibal is reading the furrowed brow, finger tapping and rocking to and fro correctly, anxiety seems to have taken over.

“Would you like to talk Will?” asks Hannibal.

The anxious look on Will’s face eases a little as he nods his head, “yeah. I’m going to have to ring Frederick Chilton,” the name sticks in Will’s throat, “report the sighting, its the law after all.”

“I take it you don’t want to?”  Hannibal knows who Chilton is, the odious man who think he knows everything about the Gods. He’s in charge of the special investigations unit of the FBI and makes a big deal of the few gods he has stuck in some cells. The truth is those he has are youngsters (by the standards of the gods) or have descended into madness (it can happen). Chilton wouldn’t know a true god if one was standing right next to him, Hannibal should know he’s invited him to a few dinner parties.

“No, but Franklyn will want our encounter to be reported in all the journals, you know how he is. So we have to otherwise there will be trouble for the squad.”

Hannibal nods, he’s familiar enough with Franklyn to know he’ll jump at the chance to have the group’s name in journals and magazines. He’ll enjoy a moment in the limelight, but also, he wont want to miss an opportunity to vindicate his father who started their branch of the God Squad years ago and took a few hard knocks along the way.

“We don’t have to tell him, we could keep it to ourselves,” says Hannibal.

Will’s smile is enough for Hannibal to know his offer is appreciated but it wont be accepted.

“Franklyn would be overjoyed and after all this time I can’t deny him,” says Will. He takes out his phone, screws his face up a little, decision made. “Do you think she’ll have gotten far enough away by now?”

“Hopefully” says Hannibal.

“I just want to catch, admire and release them,” Will says as he brings up a phone number, “but Chilton you know, I’ve heard some bad things.”

“As have I.” ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter - 
> 
> Tobias Budge, a fight, someone is a knight in shining armour (not literally).


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